verisimilitude
by LeMeilleurdesMondesPossibles
Summary: When America realizes that there is something wrong in his life, someone new comes in to set things right.


ver·i·si·mil·i·tude

(noun)

_The appearance of being true or real._

* * *

Something didn't feel right, and it drove America crazy.

Well, naturally, many things drove America crazy. Politics. Media. His weight. Life.

Eternal life. Or so they said.

But if America was to be so frank, it was the sound of banging from his fourth wall and his internal wishing for some deus ex machina to fix it.

Some deus ex machina to make things right and just and real once and for all, and to take the work and the burdens he carried on his back and turn it into dust.

Luckily, he didn't have to wait until one came for suddenly—

"Hello," said the sudden appearance of a being. (The author is using this term because "deus ex machina" literally means "god in the machine," and as religion is a touchy subject, it would be best not to offend)

"Um… hey?" … Wait, was that an alien? Did aliens actually exist?

"I can read your mind, Alfred F. Jones, also known as America, and I would like to remind you of the racist context of the word "alien" in regards to immigrant policy and silencing the very freedom of speech that the United States heralds—shall I begin with the Alien and Sedition Acts of 1798, passed by your very own Congress?"

"It's just a word, it can mean anythin—" America began, before realizing that there was something even more off.

"Wait a minute. Who am I talking to?"

"That would be me, Veruca for Versimilitude," said an ominous voice, because logic is too lazy to apply itself to this part of the story.

When America turned around, before him stood a person. (The author would describe the person, but due to subtexts that may come out from the way this figure would be described, there is concern for complaints that we would being implying either supremacy or reinforcing discrimination on the group that the figure would allude, so please assume that there was a description here that leads to America respond as such:)

"Wait… exactly what are you… a man or a woman?"

"I'd rather not say. It'd be sexist to assume my gender based on appearances. But the matter of a debate of sexuality will be discussed later— I want to start with your eating habits."

America sighed. "Yeah, yeah I know, my food's bland, they have no taste. No, you don't have to tell me. I know it's an addiction."

"I wouldn't use the term "addiction" so loosely if I were you," Veruca said with a sneer. "You might offend someone. But your tastes aren't as bad as you think. There's a reason your fast food companies are all worldwide industries, and considerably pricier around the globe."

"Well, you do have a point…"

"Interesting fact that you should know— the menus of these fast food companies often adjust to the cultural diet and tastes of the consumer in that particular geographical area, and the fact that these stores still stand indicate that foreign consumers don't consider them as tasteless as one may think."

America tilted his head to think about it, then nodded understandingly.

"Good point, very good point."

"Of course it is. But that doesn't change the situation about…." Veruca hummed for a moment before saying, "Your 'name.'"

"My name? Alfred F. Jones, or Amer-"

"First of all, if memory recalls, your 'real name' actually came from a very old comic from-"

"A comic? You mean Hetalia, the one that people read about me, right?"

"Technically, you're not supposed to break to the fourth wall because your character pretends not to read the atmosphere and hates Dora the Explorer, but that's not important. What's important, however, is that your name was technically given to a person on an ad in an archaic comic of your series that happened to look like you, but it can't be confirmed that it is you, so it is utterly atrocious and inaccurate that one would assume you to actually have the real name of Alfred F. Jones, especially when the names given to your peers are horribly researched and misspelled as is. I want you and your peers to live in an enjoyable universe, but what universe could be enjoyable if there are things so inherently wrong about it?"

"Okay…?"

"Also, it is considered offensive and politically incorrect to all of North and South America that you are called 'America.' Millions of angry residents of the real 'America' point out that America constitutes both North and South due to its lack of specificity. Do you mind changing your name completely to the United States of America to be more respectful? I understand that many of your colleagues refer to you as 'America' for short, but we'd like to maintain that habit of general respect."

"Sure," replied the United States of America, "But um… what's the point?"

"Well, something's been off, am I correct?"

"You got that right." The United States of America sighed. "Really off."

"And there is an inkling that this 'off'-ness is completely supernatural, I assume correct?"

"Pretty much."

"Well then, there need not much else to be said. I believe that such an uncomfortable feeling is generally caused by something that is wrong."

"No shit, Sh-"

"Sarcasm is unnecessary. Upon my analysis of the canon, or should I say universe, that you and your colleagues have been placed in, I can see that there are many, many wrong things that could explain this feeling of, as you put it, 'offness.'"

"O… kay?" The United States of America began, when once more he was cut off by this generic brand of Homo Sapiens that happened to have a very distinct set of mechanical workings in xir brain.

"So, shall we continue?"

"Uh-"

"That was a rhetorical question."

"Sure." The United States of America responded hesitantly. There was the feeling that he often got with some of the older nations (by years of having a consistent national identity, even though this concept came fairly recently in terms of written history) where he wanted to punch them in the head for treating him condescendingly (whether he liked it or not) that he got with Veruca, but he was so weirded out and disturbed by the character before that he soon became paralyzed with some sort of fear.

The more he resisted however, the stronger Veruca's spell became, and he could only sit and listen to the painful words coming out of Veruca's mouth.

He could only wish something good would come out, but:

"The next thing that we need to address is your gender and rac-"

"My_ race_ and _gender_? What makes you think I have a choice in that?"

"You don't, obviously," Veruca replied curtly. "But in order for you to even make sense as a personification, you would essentially have to change ethnicities, or at least the composition of the ethnicities that populate your home—might I point out that many of these ethnicities were greatly discriminated against with many immigration acts, including citizenship tests, the Jim Crow laws, the Democratic party, and so forth.

"So on that note, in order to keep with the constantly changing demographics that now make you a 'melting pot,' your ethnic composition will have to change at least once every 10 years, assuming that all members of your population have legally participated in your census. This may also mean a change in gender, as there are far too many male characters in your universe for it to be considered considerate of the progress of women's rights in recent times."

The United States of America could feel something clench his chest. Since when had all this pressure come back into him? He was just a personification with a boss who ate and breathed and lived as much as he could for a couple hundred years. The story he knew was what _he_ had seen. He couldn't live the millions of lives that had spent their time in his home. He couldn't see exactly what they saw, or felt what they had felt.

But he just knew. He just knew his people, and there was a feeling inside that connected him to their collective joys and pains, no matter who they were or where they were from.

And to be denied that by some woman-man-in-between helplessly stung him beyond belief. It suddenly didn't matter how powerful he was as a nation anymore. This being had rendered him completely powerless, and took complete pleasure in doing so. He couldn't take anythi—

"Now, onto the next two things, which shall go over quickly."

"Oh god, that's great," said United States of America with a sigh of relief.

"Let's begin with the concept of a nation, which if I recall was not firmly established as it is known today within the last two centuries. In fact, the nationalism that is often associated with the nation-state is most often attributed to the 19th century, when nationalism was, I suppose you could say, 'All the rage.'"

Getting slightly annoyed by Veruca's analysis, United States of America rolled his eyes and shook his head. He knew at this point that it didn't matter what he said anymore— Veruca would only object with another historically-proven fact. At this point, he could only listen.

"With that in mind, need I begin with the relations and friendships that you claim to have with some of your peers. I suppose England, whose existence I have yet to understand, France, Japan and China, especially, and Russia are some examples that come to mind. It confounds me that given the real-life relations that you have and the things that your people have done to those nations, that you all would consider yourself on quite good terms."

"Excuse me, that's up to my boss what happens, not me—"

"But you are meant to represent The United States of America, aren't you? To have the relations that you have when you consider the political attitudes of your people simply wouldn't make sense, wouldn't it? You can be humorous and let life be all fun and games, but if you can't get a single thing right, then it's simply dirty, slanderous lies."

Veruca scribbled a few more notes onto xir clipboard and nodded.

"And so, it has been decided."

"What?" United States of America wearily looked up at Veruca.

With a calm smile towards United States of America, Veruca tapped xir pen against xir clipboard. "Given that you and your remaining cast members were based off stereotypes and jokes, and that your characterizations and designs likewise, I can only conclude that this entire series is one messy, terribly over-rated minstrel show."

"Excuse me?"

"I'm afraid if we must be one-hundred percent respectful to all cultures and parties involved, we'd have to erase Hetalia completely for the benefit of us all."

"No, wait, you can't do this—"

"Need I mention? Everyone's pointed out the bloody, gruesome background behind the whole premise of your disgustingly offensive universe. That you would allow your character and your peers to help exploit such an unfortunate event and wars upon wars that have been the ultimate factors in the path of our histor-"

"Actually, war isn't the only thing that's determ-" The United States of America began, when

"Sile-"

"Wait, just stop!" The United States cried out. "Before you continue with whatever fucked-up shit you're about to do, just fucking _listen_ for a moment. Please."

Veruca said absolutely nothing, leaving United States of America to take xir silence as a gesture of letting him speak.

"You're being absolutely ridiculous, you know that? Who gives you the right to come stomping into my world to criticize what has been perfectly fine for god knows how long? Do you have any clue what it really means to be a personification. Fuckin' hell, I bet you say you do, but let me tell you what's up.

"Maybe I'm not something-percent-white-half-asian-this-percent-black-european whatever. Maybe my friendships that I've built with the other nations don't reflect the relationships that have past and are now that our bosses, who we can't always control. Or maybe, Prussia should be techni-fucking-cally dead! Is that what you're saying? Is that?

Well, how about this— as you said before, my friends and I are personifications. We represent our people because they project their pain, their weakness, their strength, and their pride onto us. Or their anger towards us, or— whatever! It doesn't mean that we, as living beings, are completely under the control or jurisdiction of what happens to our people.

"We're there if they need something to hold onto, and that is what counts. There's not need to be anal about every single political, sociological, and historical detail. Maybe, maybe our personifications are based off something that our people concocted for faith. And faith and love is all that we need. Do you understand?"

United States of America could feel himself seething as he breathed in and out to control himself. He was ready to mangle this bitch. Dick. Whatever the hell xe was.

But all Veruca had to do was nod, write down a few more notes, and say:

"I shall call up the authorities and we shall take care of this unfortunate, horrible situation immediately," Veruca said, scribbling a quick note then pointing his pen at United States. "Starting with you."

"No, no, you can't—" the United States of America began, but it was too late. Before the United States knew it, he was surrounded by several human-like figures that loomed over him, quickly strangling the United States of America and closing his eyes.

He screamed, and everything went black.

Verisimilitude would soon be attained.


End file.
